My Sunshine
by 07536832
Summary: Rachel and Quinn meet at a school for 'different' kids and instantly dislike each other. It seems though like fate keeps pushing them together. With the pressures of her new life will Rachel be able to deal with her feeling for Quinn? And will the Ice Queen be able to let down her walls for Rachel? Crappy summary but please give it a try. Faberry with a side of Brittana.
1. Reflection

**Author's Note: This is my very first fanfic! Yay! I've read tons but haven't written one until now, so please go easy on me. I was only just introduced to fanfiction about 6 months ago, so I'm sorry if I'm doing something wrong. This story is Faberry (and maybe some other pairings) and I have no idea how long it's going to be but I do know where I want it to go. Rachel is going to be out of character in this story, as for the rest of the Glee characters, I will try and keep them the same. So without further ado, ****My Sunshine**

When I woke up this morning, I expected the worst. I've always expected the worst ever since I learned that I was different from everyone else. But I don't mean the usual different, if there even is such a thing; I mean the '_really_ different'. The spectacularly fucked up kind of different. The kind that changed my entire life.

I, Rachel Barbra Berry, used to be an outgoing, opinionated diva that was often labeled 'annoying' by her fellow classmates. At the time I didn't understand why people thought I was annoying. I mean sure, I had a tendency to ramble, was painfully enthusiastic and always wanted the solos in Glee club but I didn't think that translated into annoying. Boy was I kidding myself. Looking back now I don't know how people could even stand to be around me. If, by some miracle, my personality wasn't off-putting enough, my wardrobe would have picked up the slack. Seriously, those hideous sweaters, knee high socks and semi revealing skirts, ugh. What was I thinking? I can't really blame the students who threw slushies in my face on a daily basis, I kind of deserved it.

But I digress; my point is I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm more guarded, apathetic, skeptical, and not to mention better dressed (thank God). And it's all because I'm different.

Oh the things I would give to be a 'normal' kind of different. To have arms of different lengths, or to be colorblind. What's that saying about not knowing what you had until it's gone? Well that's how I feel about my life. Though it was far from perfect I at least knew what was going on, unlike now, I knew who to trust and who to avoid. I had two dads who loved me unconditionally, and didn't cringe every time I had a bad day. I had my whole life planned out, and now? Now, I try not to think past the current day.

I wish there was someone or something to blame for my, uh, condition, but to be honest I don't even know where it originated from. All that I know for sure is that it's a major pain in my ass! Do you realize how difficult it is to try and keep your emotions in check 24/7? It's damn hard! Especially for Rachel Barbra Berry. Conversations gone awry can lead to broken objects. Fear can lead to entire rooms being rearranged, and anger can lead to injured people. All of which have happened at one time or another.

I suppose I could place the blame on the girl who brought my condition to the surface, the one who made me realize exactly how different I am; the captain of the Cheerios and HBIC of McKinley High School.

I remember it like it happened yesterday. It was my junior year on a Monday, a week before we got out for Winter Break and I was in my normal attire, meaning an unsightly sweater and a little skirt with my hair pulled back in a headband. I was in an uncharacteristically bad mood due to the news I'd just received from my fathers that they wanted to move down south because of a job opportunity for daddy. Being the diva I was, I stormed out and didn't even wait for them to finish explaining that we wouldn't be moving until after I graduated. Oops.

So I arrived at school, already upset, and was met with a slushie to the face at my locker. On a normal day I could have reined in my emotions long enough to make it to the safety of a bathroom but that day was not normal. Not only was I still pissed about the conversation that took place earlier that morning, but it was also that time of the month for me.

I slowly wiped my eyes of the drink that was beginning to sting them and felt the anger bubble inside me. _Why me? What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?_ I thought to myself. Once I got most of the slushie from my eyes I opened them only to be met with the unmistakable red and white uniform of a Cheerio. A closer look revealed the owner of that uniform to be none other than Kitty Wilde, Head Cheerio and HBIC. She had an empty cup in her hand and a scowl on her face.

This was new to me.

No, not being slushied, but the look she was giving me. I was used to seeing smirks or hearing laughter after a slushie attack, but never had I seen anger. Kitty looked like she was about two seconds away from hitting me…and then precisely two seconds later I felt a stinging sensation on my left cheek. At first I didn't register what happened. Gradually I heard 'ohhs' coming from all around me and the stinging feeling changed to burning. Whether it was from the pain or from anger I don't know, but the next thing I knew Kitty was in my face yelling at me.

I wasn't listening as she yelled, what was running through my mind was, _I just got slapped. Kitty Wilde hit me… in front of the whole school. And now she's yelling at me and no one is doing anything to stop it. _It was in that moment that I felt pure rage, and not just towards Kitty. It was directed at everyone. Everyone who gathered around to watch out of interest or curiosity; everyone else who turned a blind eye to what was happening right in front of their face; and all the teachers who pretended bullying didn't exist at McKinley and that students just enjoyed being showered in cold drinks.

"-and if you ever try that crap again I will end you!" I heard Kitty finish.

To this day I still have no idea what Kitty was talking about but those last words sparked something inside me. I felt a sudden jolt. It was similar that feeling you get when you're dreaming and fall off something but then wake simultaneously as you hit the ground. That's what I felt, but on the inside.

The last thing that went through my mind before my life completely changed was, _I'm about to hit the HBIC._

My hand twitched at my side, balling in and out of a fist, as I prepared to raise it. I had a glare on my face that could have given Kitty's a run for her money. All my focus was on her mouth, which was right where I wanted to hit her. None of that girlie slapping bullshit, I wanted to full on punch her.

The very moment I decided to fully raise my fist something strange happened. Out of nowhere the locker Kitty was standing by flew open, hitting her directly in the face.

Kitty stumbled backwards, clutching at her face with wide eyes. She slowly removed her hands from her mouth and noticed the blood there, the shock evident on her face. A split second later her expression changed to one of anger.

"You're gonna regret that," she growled before taking a menacing step forward.

Once again just a second before I raised my fist (I was still fuming and had every intention of hitting her, even after the rogue locker incident) another locker jerked open, and then another. And then all the lockers on the row opened. I heard gasps from all the students who were gathered around us. I glanced at Kitty, who looked just as surprised as the others, and then quickly turned my attention back to the lockers. Not only did they suddenly open, but they were also moving around on their hinges. It appeared as if a strong wind was coming down both ends of the hallway and the lockers were fighting on which way to blow but the wind was blowing equally as strong from both ends and they were in a stalemate, only moving about an inch to either side.

As I, and every other student within viewing range, continued to stare at the lockers with slack jaws, I rapidly became aware of my body and how tense it'd grown since the slap. My arms felt like they weighted a ton and my head seemed like it was too big for my body and would roll off my shoulders at any moment. I couldn't even feel my legs and there was an odd tingling in my stomach.

Unexpectedly a gruff voice sounded from behind me, and I quickly spun around. Abruptly the lockers stopped shaking and I heard a man ask, "What's going on over here?"

The last thing I remember was the feeling of being stuck in quicksand and unable to move. After that it was all black.

I was later told I had fainted at the feet of the principle. How embarrassing.

After that I knew I was different, I knew that I was the cause of what happened in the hallway that day, and not a random breeze as other students seemed to think. Kitty never said anything to me after that. I still received glares in the halls and from across the cafeteria, but apart from that we had no contact. I suspect she knew that it was me as well but didn't say anything to anyone in fear of not being believed.

In the weeks following what I dubbed '_the incident_', I did tons of research in hope of figuring out exactly what happened that day. I eventually came to the conclusion that I was telekinetic and could move objects without touching them. Everything I read about it fit perfectly with what happened with _the incident_. Intense emotions, a shock traveling through the body, what happens when concentration is broken. It all made sense, every last bit of it.

Once I knew what happened and how it happened, I started trying to keep my emotions in check. It seemed like since I figured it out though, everything felt more extreme. Like when I should have been happy, I was ecstatic, and when I should have just been irritated, I was infuriated. It was like all my emotions were taken and multiplied by 100, which made it that much harder to control them.

One day during the spring, I lost control again. It was the only other time it happened since _the incident_, and it happened right in front of my dads. We were sitting around the dinner table eating vegan lasagna, and daddy commented about my change in attitude.

At this point it had been over three months since _the incident_, and my attitude had definitely changed. Before the craziness began I used to be longwinded, I could take a simple 'yes or no' answer and turn it into a verbal essay. Afterwards I was simple and direct, straight to the point. I also used to be cheerful and positive, always looking for the silver lining in things, but afterwards I was bordering on cynical. On the plus side of my changes, I got an entirely new wardrobe; no more repulsive sweaters and short skirts for me. In their place were 'normal people' clothes, as some kid so delicately put it. I wore the standard dark colored skinny jeans, and form fitting tee-shirts with a leather jacket thrown over it. I almost never straightened my hair anymore; instead I left it in its natural curl. Only a blind and deaf person wouldn't notice how my entire demeanor changed, and daddy was neither of those things.

"Are you okay sweetie? You've seemed a bit off lately," daddy said to me from across the table.

I glanced up from my lasagna and gave him a weak smile, "I've just been feeling a little sick," I lied, hoping he'd let it go.

He looked to dad with an unreadable expression on his face as they silently conversed. After a few moments they both looked to me. Shit.

"Are you sure sweetheart? You've been off for a while now, a few months actually. Did something happen? Is there something you want to tell us?"

Remember how I said all my emotions were intensified? Well at that moment I should have felt annoyed because daddy wouldn't drop the subject, but thanks to my condition I was quickly getting angry.

_Calm down Rachel, rein it in. This is nothing to get upset over. He's just worried about you. Deep breaths Rachel think about Barbra in Funny Girl. Think happy thoughts. _

Unfortunately, thinking about Barbra only made things worse.

_That's the kind of life I'll never have! My dreams of Broadway have vanished! I'll never be able to get up on stage and perform now, not with all this shit happing to me. _

I carelessly threw my fork onto the plate and sat up straighter, eyeing my fathers.

"What do you mean '_off'_?" I questioned defiantly. _Damn it Rachel, shut up!_

Dad took over the line of questioning. "What he- um we, mean is you seemed to changed quite a bit over the last few months," he said cutting his eyes over to daddy briefly before looking back at me.

"You're just different is all, your hair, your clothes, your behavior. It's all changed and without a notable cause."

_Okay Rachel, this could quickly get out of hand. Don't say anything else, just excuse yourself from the table and go to your room. Yes, it will hurt them right now but in the long run it's best._

"So, what? I need an excuse now as to why I decided to stop dressing like a ten year old? I need a reason why I prefer my hair curly instead of straight? There has to be something wrong because I finally realized how _fucked_ this world is and how pointless it is to be try and be hopeful!" _Shit. Too much. Should have walked out._

I had gradually shifted forward to where I was leaning over my forgotten lasagna and my voice had rose considerably since the start of my mini rant. (It seemed some things didn't change)

My dads just stared at me, disbelief written all over their faces. I sat there willing myself to calm down.

Dad recovered first and spoke up. "Rachel Barbra Berry! You know we do not tolerate that kind of language in this household! What has gotten into you?"

_Oh crap. There's that jolt again._

"How dare you ask what's gotten into me as if it's something I can control," I yelled. Suddenly the dishes on the table began to shake. Or maybe it was the table that was moving…either way my fathers' looks of surprise morphed into ones of confusion and then fear.

I imagine my expression must have been frightening on its own, but couple that with the shaking objects and they were probably downright terrified.

I banged my fists down on the table and the plates rose. With alarmed eyes my dads watched the china float overhead and then be slung into the wall. I no longer felt like myself. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, watching someone else take control of my body and do with it what they pleased. My limbs had the same feeling as the first time, my arms heavy and my legs nonexistent.

"If I could control this don't you think I would?!" Another dish rose and flew into the wall. Daddy flinched closer to dad and grabbed his hand.

"Rachel," daddy started to say but trailed off when he realized there was nothing he could say in this particular situation to make things better.

I stared at my fathers as they shrank into each other, terrified of their own daughter. I felt a pang of guilt at the sight and my anger slowly slipped away, only to be replaced by remorse.

I spent the next hour and a half apologizing profusely and explaining what I could to my fathers. Strangely they took it well. After the initial shock of it wore off, they seemed to accept my condition. They definitely didn't like it, but they did accept it. They also told me that they loved me no matter what but I couldn't help but notice how they both flinched before they drew me into a hug.

After that ill-fated spring day, I started having more outbursts; my emotions continually got the best of me. People around school started to notice the strange things that happened around me and avoided me like the plague. All sorts of rumors spread (though I didn't most of them) about me and how much of a freak I was. Truthfully I was, to a certain extent, glad people left me alone. I no longer had to deal with slushie facials or the unavoidable explosions that accompanied them. Everything was beginning to smooth out for me…until the new kid showed up.

The strangest thing about the new kid (besides his abnormal mouth to face ratio) was the fact that I was attracted to him, and no not in the way you're thinking. I'm not even into guys like that.

What I mean is, whenever he's around I feel something pulling at me. Something telling me he's different, maybe even like me.

He was my assigned lab partner in physics (because my old lab partner dumped me after all the rumors started) and he introduced himself as Sam. He was a good guy from what I could tell; he wasn't the brightest and he did horrible imitations of celebrities, but overall he seemed decent. Besides the peculiar pull I felt towards him, there was something else odd about him. He seemed to always be watching me, whether it was head-on or out of the corner of his eye. He also seemed to always know where I was when I felt a sudden burst of emotion. He would come out of nowhere and do shitty impressions to make me laugh or at least calm me down. For that I was thankful and decided to accept his friendship and not push him away.

Big mistake, no gigantic mistake, wait, no, colossal mistake.

I feel like such an idiot now because I didn't realize something was up sooner. I should have known from the way he was always watching me. If I had put two and two together sooner I wouldn't be where I am at this moment, reflecting on all the things that have happened to lead up to this point.

Here I am, sitting in the back of a creeper van with handcuffs on my wrists and some sort of sedative coursing through my veins. Sam is up front driving, casting wary glances in the rearview mirror, trying to explain to me why this had to be done.

I tune him out.

Instead I keep playing back everything that happened in the last 15 minutes in my head.

All the yelling I did when my fathers announced that Sam was taking me away; the guilt ridden faces of my fathers as tears streamed from my eyes and down my cheeks. The distinctive jolt I felt before everything in our living room began flying around; the sudden fog that overwhelmed my senses before I fell limply into Sam's arms. The feeling of being half carried half dragged out to the van where I helplessly watched as my daddy leaned dejectedly onto my dad's shoulder and cried, and as Sam quietly assured them that I would be taken care of.

I feel my butt starting to fall asleep so I shift slightly. Sam takes it as invitation to begin talking again.

"How are you feeling Rachel? Are you okay," he inquires.

That was probably the dumbest thing he's ever asked, so I don't even feel inclined to respond.

_Of course I'm not okay! I've just been drugged and kidnapped! God Sam, I knew you weren't Einstein but seriously? _I think to myself. _This must be a new record for most stupid question asked. _

We ride in silence for another 20 minutes before I decide to take the plunge.

"Where are we going," I ask bitterly.

Sam pulls up to a stoplight and turns around in his seat to face me. With a small smile on his face he replies, "Somewhere people like us belong." And with that he turns back around and continues driving.

_Well I've always expected the worst ever since I discovered my condition. But I never in a million years would have expected this. _

**A/N: So how'd I do for my first chapter? Feedback would be appreciated, it can be ideas for future chapters, critiques (but no flames), or just a simple 'good job'. Anything would help.**

**Also I plan on having the Glee characters all have some sort of 'power'. Any suggestions would be great. I've got some ideas, but if yours are better I might just steal them(:**

**Until next time.**


	2. Apple Pie

**A/N: Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry. I had no intention of waiting this long to update. I promise it won't ever happen again.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the creeper van Sam has been driving around in.**

The next several hours pass silently. After Sam's vague answer to where we were going, I mull over what he could possibly mean.

What is this place for people like me…us? Is Sam a freak too? Can he do what I can or can he do something else? How many others are like us? Surely there can't be too many since I've never heard of any incidents involving things this strange. I mean, I've heard of people who can apparently bend spoons with their minds but that's a bunch of bullshit that always get uncovered as a scam. Hmm, I wonder if I could bend a spoon without touching it. With my luck I'd probably lose control and someone else would lose an eye.

My mind continues to wonder aimlessly while I rotate my wrists trying to keep the blood circulating, something the handcuffs were determined to stop.

Wait, what? Where the hell did these come from? I don't remember them being put on. The fu— oh yeah, Sam put them on me when I was drugged up and semi-conscious. And to think, I used to consider him a friend. Bastard.

Before I know it, it's dark out and Sam is navigating through a parking lot attached to some neglected motel. With my head all over the place I forgot to ask Sam where we were _actually _going. I haven't got the slightest clue as to where we might be. I wasn't even paying attention to what direction we headed when we left my neighborhood. Not that I could really be blamed for that on account of being unwilling doped up.

Sam's door slams and I glance up to see him walking towards the lobby of the motel. Through the glass I spy an overweight man in grimy overalls sporting an enormous beer-belly sitting behind the front desk. Sam gives him a curt nod and begins speaking with him. A few minutes later the back doors of the van swing open to display a cautious looking Sam. In his hands he holds two keys, one with a plastic number attached to it, which I'm sure is a room key, and the other a much smaller silver key. I'm pretty sure that's the one to my handcuffs.

I look up at him expectantly. "Well are you going to take these handcuffs off me or what?" I thrust my hands out in front of me, waiting to be released from the cold metal.

Sam inspects me closely, probably imagining all the possible outcomes of what could happen if he does.

"I don't know," he begins slowly. "If I take them off will you promise not to hurt me," he asks, and then throws in as an afterthought, "or run?"

I scowl at the blonde boy before a look of irritability takes over my face.

"Sam," I growl, frustration lacing my words. "If I was going to run or hurt you I would have done it already. That shit you drugged me with wore off hours ago. If I really wanted, you'd be flat on your ass on the other side of the parking lot by now."

He considers my words for a moment before reluctantly leaning in and undoing my cuffs.

Luckily he doesn't know that I don't have any control over my condition, or he would have seen right through my lie. Thank God he's blonde.

I stiffly climb out the back of the van and plant my feet on the ground. Grabbing my right arm with my left, I pull it across my chest until it makes a popping noise which echoes in the nearly empty parking lot. Repeating the motion with my other arm and then cracking my back I begin to feel less like a plank of wood.

"So where are we?"

Sam's face oozes confusion before he points directly above our heads to a sign that reads 'All Tucked Inn'.

"Not what I meant. Where are we _geographically_?"

The blonde's eyebrows only furrow deeper.

"What-state-are-we-in," I enunciate slowly, as if speaking to a little kid. Well actually, intelligence wise, that's probably an accurate analogy.

Little by little his expression changes into one of recognition. "Oh! We're in Georgia, just outside of Atlanta," he replies with a grin, happy that he understood the question.

"Humph," is all I offer in return. I glance around distastefully and take in my surrounding.

The parking lot is practically empty besides the van we came in, a truck parked right outside the lobby and two other cars parked further down. The motel looks rundown and if I'm being honest, it looks like the set to some teen horror film. You know, the one where the slutty cheerleader is the first to die, followed by the cocky jock and then the awkward but somehow likeable geek? And the only survivor is the sweet and innocent virgin girl, who only makes it out because of sheer luck? Yeah, those 50 films.

The lights in the parking lot flicker ominously overhead and Sam takes that as a sign to start off towards our motel room with me following silently behind him.

Once inside he flips on the lights and I scan the room. It looks like a pretty standard motel room with a double bed up against a wall in the middle, a dresser opposite of it with a small TV on top and two doors to either side of the bed, one leading to a small closet and the other to the bathroom.

Sam lets out a sigh and drops a bag and a suitcase onto the bed. Immediately I recognize my suitcase from home; it's the one I used when the Glee club went to New York.

"Where did you get that," I ask accusingly, pointing at the object in question.

Sam shifts his gaze to the bag and rubs the back of his neck guiltily. "Um. Your dads packed it with some clothes for you. They said it should be enough for you to get by but if you want new clothes there's enough money in the side pocket for that and anything else you might need."

I reach for the zipper on the side and sure enough, as soon as it's open, I see the distinctive faded green color. I pull out the wad (yes, an actual wad) of cash and count through it. I stop when I reach a thousand.

Running a hand through my hair, I exhale loudly and toss the money back into the pocket. I'll think about all this tomorrow. I'm beat just want to sleep. I regard Sam and then the bed… the only bed in the room.

As if he could read my mind he states, "I'll take the floor, you can have the bed."

I offer him a small grateful smile, but not too grateful because he still basically kidnapped me or whatever, before grabbing my suitcase and walking to the bathroom.

As soon as the door is shut I drop my luggage and turn to the mirror. I look like microwaved shit. And I still have no idea what's going on. But in this moment I'm too exhausted to even care. I'll just demand answers to all my questions in the morning when I can think straight.

Flicking my gaze back to the mirror I notice my eyes are still puffy from crying earlier and my cheeks are stained with what I'm sure is mascara and eyeliner. Not to mention my hair looks like a birds nest and I smell an odor that I'm pretty sure isn't coming from the bathroom. I suppose this is the look people had in mind when the saying 'you look like hell' came out.

In my suitcase I find a blue tank top and flannel pants that I dub suitable for sleep. Turning the water to an almost scalding temperature, I step in and let the droplets wash the events of the day away.

Standing stock-still in the shower my mind is blank. There are no thoughts, questions or fears about what's to come. There is no insatiable need to know everything that's going on. And most notably, there are no emotions, nothing to try and hold back. Nothing but me and the steady drumming of the water.

I don't know how long I've been standing here, motionless and uncomprehending, and honestly I don't know how long I would have stayed like that if not for the gentle knock on the door, snapping me back to reality. Sam asks if I'm okay, and I answer in the affirmative before shutting off the currently cold water.

I dress quickly and step out of the bathroom. Sam has already set up his spot on the floor. Next to the bed there lays a pillow and blanket that look like they belong to an elementary aged kid. The pillow has a person in a black mask on it, while the blanket has various people dressed in white on it along with a gold robot that looks like a human and a silver robot that just looks like a robot. And if I'm not mistaken I believe I also see a large furry beast wearing a sash and a little green alien in a robe. What the hell?

I cock an eyebrow at Sam and glance back at his spot on the floor, silently asking a question. He understands and quickly explains. "It's Star Wars," he says with a grin. "You know, Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Chewbacca and Yoda?" He points to each character as he names them.

I slowly shake my head at him, indicating that I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Haven't you seen Star Wars?" The blonde's face is scrunched up as he asks.

"Nope," is my response, making a popping noise.

Sam looks baffled, as if I just told him there's no Santa Clause. "How have you _not_ seen Star Wars?"

_Then how do the presents get under the tree?_

"Uh, I've never sat down and watched it?" I walk over to the bed, careful not to step on the boy's precious blanket, and sit on the edge.

_Sweetie, your father and I put the presents under the tree._

"But that's like living in America and never eating a hot dog. It's like our national food or something. And if we had a national movie, it'd be Star Wars!"

_But who gets my Christmas list when you mail it to the North Pole?_

"Sam," I sigh, "I've never eaten a hot dog and I've never seen Star Wars."

_We don't actually send it to the North Pole honey. We just keep it._

Sam's eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head in a cartoonish manner.

"Never had a hot dog?" he mumbles more to himself than me. After a moment he breaks out in a smile, "But that's because you're a vegan. You can't eat hot dogs. But you have to have eaten apple pie before right? Because that's like our other national food."

I narrow my eyes at the blonde, "How do you know I'm a vegan?"

A fleeting look of confusion crosses Sam's face. That seems to be an almost default expression on the blonde.

"Uh, you've told me? Actually you've told entire classrooms before. Remember that time in Mr. Benson's class when we had to cut up those frogs? And you stood up and went on a rant about animal rights and stuff? You had to have mentioned being a vegan at least twenty times," he said with a chuckle.

I scrunch up my nose at the mention of that horrid day. Those poor frogs. Even after my outburst Mr. Benson carried on with the lesson like he didn't hear a word I said. That's how most people are; oblivious to my words. It's surprising to learn that Sam had actually listened to what I was saying.

"And that day in the cafeteria," the blonde continues, "You went up to the lunch lady and demanded that she give you a salad that had no meat or cheese on it. You two were arguing so loud that the whole room could hear it." Sam was grinning largely at the memory.

That lady had no right to refuse me food. It wasn't that I was being picky; I just didn't have anything to eat and was hungry.

Sam's face falls suddenly and it takes me a moment to realize why. That was the day I gave the students of McKinley a reason think I was even more of a freak than they originally thought. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. It was the day the entire student body turned its back on me once and for all.

My anger at the lunch lady got the best of me and it ended with her covered in whatever soup she was serving that day. Unfortunately there was no random breeze to explain away that incident.

"Sam, what the hell is wrong with me," I question glumly.

The blonde snaps his head up with a serious expression. "There's nothing _wrong_ with you Rachel. You're just different," he pauses, "_We _are just different."

He must have sensed that I was about to launch into an endless number of question when he adds, "I promise that I'll explain everything to you tomorrow on the way, but for now we need sleep. No offense but you look like you belong in a zombie movie."

"Fine," I huff and stand up to pull back the comforter on the bed. "But answer me this one question," I insist.

Sam is already on the floor on his makeshift bed when he peers up and me and answers, "Okay, what?"

"Where are we going? And I'd like a real answer this time." I'm laying down now and looking straight up at the ceiling.

I can hear Sam expel a short laugh from beside the bed before he answers. "Florida. We're going to a school in Florida that's filled with people like us."

"What do y—"

"Nope," Sam interrupts, "That was your one question. No more until the A.M."

I can tell he's smiling just from the sound of his voice. I can probably get away with asking a few more questions but truthfully I'm too tired to for all that right now. Instead I reach over and turn off the light that's next to the bed.

With a small sigh I roll over and close my eyes. Just before I drift off I hear Sam whisper my name.

"Hmm," is all I can manage.

Still whispering he states, "You never answered my question."

"What question," I mumble sleepily. Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?

"Have you ever had apple pie?"

What the hell? When did he ever ask me about apple pie?

"Rachel," he questions again.

"Yes Sam, I've eaten apple pie," is my muffled reply. "Now please let me sleep."

And a few seconds later all was quiet again and I fall off into a dreamless sleep.

**Just a random side note, I've never seen Star Wars but from my understanding everyone is supposed to have seen it… IDK, it just seemed like a Sam thing since he's kind of nerdy like that. Also I plan on reveling Sam's 'power' in the next chapter; I'd be cool to hear what you guys think it might be. I haven't really hinted on it but it definitely makes sense with his personality on Glee. I'm sorry if this chapter seems a little pointless. I only wrote it to show the growing bond between Sam and Rachel. Next chapter will a little more entertaining, and the one after that is when things really start to kick off. I hope you stick around for it. Thanks for reading! And feel free to review if you've got something you'd like to say. I'm still taking ideas for other characters powers. Oh, and ten points to whoever spots the Skins reference(:**

**Until next time.**


	3. Barbra

Sam and I wake up bright and early the next morning. Well actually bright isn't an accurate description, more like we woke up at the ass-crack of dawn. We stumble around in the dimly lit room, just barely conscious, trying to get ready and gather our things. We pull out of the motel parking lot by 6:30 and I'm fully awake by 7. This time Sam didn't lock me up in the back of his van; I ride up front in the passenger seat. Progress.

"Sam?"

"Yeah," he answers, glancing at me quickly before focusing back on the road.

My stomach responds before I can with a low growl, which gets a chuckle out of Sam and a look of embarrassment from me.

"Hungry huh?" he asks with a knowing grin. "Me too. We can make a quick detour. We probably won't make it to the school until later this evening so we should fill up now."

"This evening?" I inquire. "I thought you said we were going to Florida. Surely we aren't," I stop midsentence to calculate. "Eleven hours from there. We're in Georgia right now."

"We're going way down to the bottom of Florida. Towards the Keys."

I try but can't keep the excitement from my voice. "The Keys?! We're going to the Keys?" I have always wanted to go there, granted, under different circumstances but I'll take what I can get.

Sam chuckles and bobs his head, "The school is on its own private island about ten miles from Key West. It's like a 20 minute ferry ride. We have privacy from nosy people, but we're still close enough to Key West to sneak out occasionally and have a night on the town." Sam glances at me again and gives a conspiring wink.

I shake my head at his antics and look out the window to see if there are any suitable places to eat. Questions and conversations can wait a little bit longer. I need food in my stomach before I can function properly.

* * *

Ten minutes later we're idling outside of a fast food restaurant in the drive-thru line. Thankfully this place has fruit on the menu. I'm pulling out some money to pay for my half of the meal when Sam gives me a soft smile and tells me to put my money away. "It's on me. I feel bad about everything that happened yesterday."

My lips curve up slightly and I put my money away. "You know, if you really want to make it up to me, you'll tell me what's wrong with me."

Sam starts to reply but is interrupted by a paper bag that's thrust through the open window. Sam grabs the bag and the smoothie and gives them to me before pulling out into traffic.

"I told you last night Rachel, there's nothing wrong with you. You're just different."

I snort into my smoothie, which by the way, tastes like heaven. "By today's standards, being different means something is wrong with you, sooo, Potato Pah-tahto."

The blonde's eyebrows furrow and a frown is tugging at his lips. It's true though, if there's something wrong with you everyone sees you as different. And when someone says that you're _different_, nine times out of ten they mean something's wrong with you. Either way, deviating from the 'norm' isn't seen as a good thing.

"The people who set the standards don't know about people like us." Sam moves one of his hands from the steering wheel to take the breakfast sandwich I hold out to him.

"Mhmm. If they knew about us, they'd probably have to make up a whole new word to describe us accurately." Sam stops his chewing and looks at me suspiciously. "What?" I ask. "Is there a word to describe us," I ask incredulously.

"Uh, yeah, sort of, but only the people who know about us know the word. And it's not exactly made up. It's just from another language." Sam balls up his empty wrapper and tosses it back into the bag. "Can you hand me my other sandwich Rachel?"

How can he be obliviously eating like this? My heart is racing in anticipation, I'm ready to learn any new bit of information I can. Ready for some answers finally. I guess to him this is all old news, nothing to really get excited over. But he doesn't understand that I've been in the dark for too long, I'm ready to be clued in.

I clear my throat impatiently, waiting for the blonde to finish his food. Once he's finished he places both his hands on the wheel and faces forward. "Okay Rachel, I know you've got questions, so ask away."

A million questions race through my mind, too many to try and single just one out. I blurt out the first question that makes itself known. "What is the word that's used to describe us?"

"Well, it's more of a title for us, like a name for people who are different. But translated I think it describes us pretty well." His eyes are bright and a smile is pulling at his lips. "Around the school we're known as 'Insigs' which is short for the word 'insignis' which means remarkable in Latin." The way he states it sounds like it's something he's memorized from a book. "But we don't go around calling each other Insigs. It's just a technical term."

I nod my head, digesting the new information. I'm an Insig, whatever the hell that is. At least I've got a name now.

"Next question?"

I shake my head in attempt to clear it and come up with another question, but my mind is drawing a blank. Why is it that I had a whole list of questions to ask yesterday, but today I can't seem to pinpoint a single one?

I huff and ask one that I know I've already asked, but hopefully this time I'll get a better answer. "So what's wrong with me?"

Releasing a sigh Sam says, "I already told you, nothing's wrong with you Rachel. But if you're asking about your gift, I can't really tell you much. All I know is that you're telekinetic, but I'm sure you already figured that out for yourself."

"Gift?" My eyebrows are dangerously close to my hairline. "It's a pretty shitty one if you ask me."

"Well 'gift' is what most people call it. I like to think of it is as a power. You know, like superheroes? It just makes me feel a little better about it. I hated my gift too when I first found out about it."

The blonde is eyeing me from his seat, probably waiting for the question I feel bubbling up inside me. "What is your gift Sam," I ask him quietly. I forget sometimes that Sam is in the same boat as me. He seems to have adjusted well to his predicament but he probably felt just like I do when he first found out.

Sam glances to the left and right and then checks his mirrors before leaning closer to me and whispering secretly with an amused look on his face, "Wanna see?"

I'm caught off guard by how casual Sam seems to be about it. Almost like a little kid just begging for someone to ask about his new toy so he can show them. I hesitate for a moment before I nod my head to the boy in the driver's seat.

"Who have you always wanted to meet? It can be anybody."

Again I'm caught off guard by the blonde. What's that got to do with his gift? But regardless I answer the question. I could never turn down an opportunity to talk about Barbra Streisand.

"She's been my idol for as long as I can remember. I would do almost anything to meet her."

Sam grins and checks our surroundings once more, probably to make sure no other cars are close by, which they're not.

He clears his throat and sits up straighter in his seat. I'm watching him carefully when suddenly his arms, which are held in front of him on the steering wheel, begin to shrink and the hair on them recedes. I look up to his face and a gasp escapes my lips. His hair is twice the length it was and is still growing; it's also a dark brown color and his eyes seem to be fading from green to blue. Most notably though, is that his face is morphing into a more feminine shape. A few seconds later and I recognize whose face I'm looking into. It's Barbra freaking Streisand circa 1968 when she starred in Funny Girl! I would recognize that face anywhere.

I must be gaping because Sam snickers and says, "Careful Rach, I don't want any drool in my van."

I quickly snap my mouth shut, but not because of what Sam says, no, it's what he sounds like saying it. Despite appearances, Sam sounds _nothing_ like Barbra. He still sounds like himself, I was half expecting him so be able to replicate her voice just as flawlessly as he was able to replicate her appearance.

Sam chuckles again into the silence. "Not what you were expecting?" He gives me a side glace and a slight smirk.

"Uh, I, um." Damn it Rachel! Pull it together. "Um, I don't know what I expected, but this certainly wasn't it. Uh, how come you don't sound like her?"

My eyes have yet to leave his side profile. "My gift doesn't let me mimic voices like I can bodies. If I really want to pull off pretending to be someone else I've got to do their voice myself." Sam stops abruptly and balls up one of his fists and bangs it against his chest (which has boobs by the way!) and lets out a loud belch.

"And their mannerism," I mutter. Barbra would never do something so barbaric.

Sam looks sheepish and apologizes. "When I shift, I always feel like I have to burp afterwards. I don't know why, but that's just how it is."

"Are you a—," I stop myself and blush. I feel ridiculous even thinking it.

"What Rachel? It's okay to ask," Sam encourages with a smile, "I know it might seem weird right now but I promise you get used to it the more you're around it."

Taking a deep breath I try again. "Are you some sort of shape-shifter?"

To my surprise Sam doesn't laugh, he actually nods his head. "Yep, I'm what they call a Metamorphosis shifter, or meta-shifter for short. Others like me can take the physical form of any human. It's pretty sweet once you learn to control it."

"Can you change into an animal?" I blurt. What the hell? I don't even know why that came out. Oh well, can't take it back now.

Shaking his head he replies, "No, I can't do that, but there are people at school who can."

I'm about to ask another question when I notice a car on the driver's side that has a woman in it who is staring as us with wide eyes, or more accurately at Sam. Probably a fellow Barbra fan. I wonder what she's thinking since Sam obviously doesn't look like what Barbra looks like right now. I bet she thinks she's losing her mind.

"Hey Sam? I think you've got a fan over there," I say pointing out his window towards the lady who is now pulling out her camera phone.

He cuts his eyes to the left and mutters something I don't quite catch under his breath. The van jolts forward as Sam presses the gas to get away from the woman. When we're far enough away and no other cars close by Sam morphs back to himself.

The process is fascinating and can't help but stare in amazement as his hair seemingly gets pulled back into his scalp until it's the right length again and lightens up in color. The hair on his arms extends and they bulk up some. His face changes back to how he normally looks and the green over takes the blue in his eyes. He releases a sigh of relief.

"You should see people's reaction when I do Taylor Lautner," he grins at me with a mischievously.

It suddenly hits me. _That's_ why Sam is always going around doing impressions of people! He's probably practicing. But in his case I think he'll need a lot of practice before its perfect.

I chuckle under my breath at this new realization, and Sam thinks I'm laughing at what he said.

"So how do you do that? Does it hurt? What's it feel like?" Now I feel like a little kid, one who's overeager and wants to know everything about a particular subject.

"Well _how_ I do it is really complicated and I barely understand it, so I don't think I'd be able to explain it you. But no, it doesn't hurt; I just feel kind of tingly everywhere until the morphing part is over."

"Wow." My brain is fried and I've barely learned anything yet. I just can't believe this is all happening, it seems so surreal. Things like this aren't supposed to happen in real life, they happen in movie and in dreams, but not for real. I wonder if this has all been one really long and extremely vivid dream and if I'll wake up any second now and be back in my junior year right before winter break, before the world decided to take a shit on me.

Unfortunately I don't feel like I'll be waking up anytime soon.

Sam stays quiet for a while, allowing me time to think, but eventually speaks up. "Any more questions you want to ask?"

There are a ton of questions I've yet to ask but strangely enough, I don't _want_ to ask any of them right now. I think my brain may explode if I don't give it time to adjust to all the new information. So instead I ask, "How much longer until we get there?"

* * *

**Three cheers for fast updates! It's only because I've been ridiculously bored the last few days that I've been able to write this chapter and part of the next chapter so quickly. My brothers are back in school and college doesn't start until next week. So I've been lounging around the house utterly bored because it won't stop raining. Damn you Florida weather. **

**Next chapter Rachel arrives at the school (I have yet to think of a name for it, please give me some ideas!) but doesn't interact with any students, save for Sam. There will be lots of information about the school in the next chapter that will play a huge role later on in the story. The chapter after next she meets some of the Gleeks and has her first run-in with Quinn. Rachel is in for a surprise(: **

**Thanks for reading! And feel free to review if you've got something you'd like to say.**


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